


Risky Time Business

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, F/M, Fluff, Romance, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of fluff with a JE/EoT fix-it thrown in mix!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risky Time Business

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know I take great liberties with these characters sometimes, but I have a feeling they both would appreciate them!
> 
> A/N1: Yes, I know. I am woefully behind with my WIP on LJ. Mea culpa (although I _**am**_ working on it, I swear!) And the basic idea for this has been sitting dormant on my tablet for ages. But when your Muse starts incessantly shoving images into your brain, a wise woman once told me to just go with the flow. So here we are ... flowing.
> 
> A/N2: Somehow this became a JE/EoT fix it, before getting to the fluff. Go figure.
> 
> A/N3: Once again, many, many thanks to dtstrainers, my dear friend and muse to my Muse, without whose invaluable assistance, my little pieces would be riddled with inconsistencies, and just plain rubbish. Molto grazie, mia cara!

Donna Noble hugged her mother and kissed her grandfather one last time, promising she would see them again soon. She shifted the bags she and Sylvia had acquired during their shopping trip to her left arm, and balanced the covered plate with the layer cake in her right hand. She walked slowly down the lane toward the edge of a park where the TARDIS was concealed behind a small stand of trees.

She smiled to herself, thinking back on her now-concluded visit with her family. It was amazing, all that had transpired in such a short period of time, the most significant of which was the restoration of her memories by the Doctor. She rolled her eyes. To be fair, they had the Master to thank for most of that. If he hadn’t sent those creepy clones of his after her, the defence mechanism the Doctor had implanted in her brain would never have activated. 

The defence mechanism had triggered a partial regeneration, resulting in the siphoning off of some of the Time Lord consciousness, enough, at least, to prevent her from burning up. She remembered vividly waking up in her mother’s house at the sound of the TARDIS, Sylvia and Shaun hovering over her. She was disoriented for a few moments, wondering aloud what had happened. The groaning of the timeship’s engines spurred her into action, and she dashed out into the street, bellowing for the Doctor to stop, as the TARDIS began to dematerialise.

The Doctor couldn’t believe his ears. He thought, at first, that the regeneration he was holding back was causing hallucinations, harking back to the first time he left Donna at this house. But her voice was clear and strong, and something told him to return and investigate. He was overwhelmed at the sight of Donna standing with arms crossed, feet apart, glaring at him in that oh, so familiar way.

“Just where do you think _**you’re**_ going, Sunshine?” she demanded.

He stood there, stunned. “Donna?” he whispered. “You’re …” Words failed him.

“Yeah, I’m me. And I’m not dead.” She walked slowly over to him and placed one hand gently on his cheek. She could feel the heat simmering just under the surface of his skin. She flinched as she scanned his face and noticed the golden glow around the irises of his eyes. “Oh, Spaceman,” she cried, gathering him into a rib-crushing hug. “What have you gone and done to yourself?”

The Doctor returned the hug, holding her as if his very life depended on it, which, to his addled mind, it very well might.

“I’m sorry, Donna. I’m so, so sorry.” He buried his face in her hair so she couldn’t see his tears and wouldn’t hear the sobs he desperately tried to hold back. After a moment, he pulled himself together and stepped away from her. “I have to go. Wilf can explain it all to you.” He turned back toward the TARDIS, but his forward movement was halted by Donna’s strong right hand on his arm.

“Now, just you wait a minute, Doctor,” Donna stated angrily. “You can’t just walk away without an explanation. You took my memories from me. And you look like death warmed up. Come on,” she instructed him, brooking no refusal, and led him to the TARDIS door. Turning back to Wilf, who had witnessed everything, she said, “Gramps, please. Can you just go in there and try to keep Mum and Shaun away for a while? I really need to get this dumbo sorted. Ta much.” She pushed the Doctor forward through the already open doors and slammed them shut behind her.

For a moment neither of them said a word, the Doctor too surprised at this development and Donna still too angry. But the heat of her ire died away quickly, and she slowly shook her head and smiled. “So tell me,” she said softly. “What’s happened? I recognize the signs, you know. Still have a bit of your big old brain in here,” she snickered, tapping her temple. “You’re regeneratin’, ain’tcha?”

Realizing he was never going to be able to bluff his way out of it, he sighed deeply and said, “Yes. I am. I don’t want to.” He ambled over to the pilot’s seat and slumped down. “Especially not now,” he muttered.

Donna joined him and took his hand. “Are you sure? You got rid of it before. That Dalek, yeah? And Martha told me about the shoe incident.”

A small huff of laughter escaped him at the memory of jumping up and down on one foot. But it quickly abated. “Different kind of radiation, and not as much. And before I had a matching bio-receptacle. No, I’m sure. I’m dying.”

Suddenly, the Time Rotor lit up and began to vibrate, making a high-pitched whine. The Doctor frowned and looked at Donna, who was giving him her patented _‘you great big outer space dunce’ _look. “I think your ship disagrees.”__

“What?” He strode over to the console and placed his hands firmly on the outer ring. “What do you mean? He concentrated, trying to understand what his ship was telling him. But between the regeneration energy swirling through his body and the shock of seeing Donna alive and relatively well, he was having a hard time deciphering his ship’s thoughts. 

Donna read the confusion in the Doctor’s face and realized he was completely clueless as to what needed to be done. Tilting her head to one side, she listened intently to the mental plea of the TARDIS. A small snort escaped her lips and she giggled to herself. Striding purposefully over to him, she grabbed him by the lapels and said, “She says, _‘It worked before, it’ll work again’_. So here goes!” And she kissed him within an inch of his life. 

The Doctor was so shocked – again – at her actions that he couldn’t move at first. However, as soon as he felt the regeneration energy leaving his body and flowing into Donna, he began to struggle, trying to break the lip lock his companion had on him. She was stronger than he remembered and, when she swiftly moved her hands from his jacket to the back of his head, he was lost. 

Donna held on tightly as the energy swirled through her, attracted by the Time Lord consciousness. It wove its way through her synapses and over her cerebral cortex, gathering up all the non-human bits and absorbing them. She pulled back from the Doctor suddenly and, for the second time that day, threw out her arms and flung back her head. 

The Doctor cried out in horror as golden light streamed from her hands and head. It rushed past him in a cloud of dancing motes, and settled in a column above the now-opened Heart of the TARDIS. Slowly, and with painstakingly precise measurements, the ship separated the Time Lord DNA and the regeneration energy, returning the former to the Doctor and neutralising the latter. 

The Doctor was thrown violently back onto the grating by the TARDIS’ manoeuvers, landing forcefully on his back and sliding into a coral strut. He was knocked momentarily unconscious but, after a few moments, he got to his knees, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Did you have to be so rough?” he grumbled to his ship. He was startled to hear a groan in response. 

"Donna!” he exclaimed, ashamed that he had forgotten her in his confusion. He scrambled across the grating to where she lay, her eyes closed and her body motionless. He moved with swift, jerky motions, trying to simultaneously feel for a pulse, smooth her hair away from her face, and check her pupils for responsiveness. 

He abruptly fell back on his behind when Donna opened one eye and growled, “I think she was trying to tell you that you’re a brainless git. Now stop pawing at me and help me up.” 

He carefully sat her up and, with great gentleness, helped her to her feet. He continued to stare at her, not at all clear what had just happened. Donna stood patiently, knowing that these events were confusing at best and, for the Doctor, almost impossible to reconcile. After a few moments, she smiled softly and said, “Okay. What’s going on in that great big Time Lord brain of yours? I know you have questions. Go ahead and ask.” 

Hearing her voice snapped him out of the dazed stupor into which he had fallen. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, he muttered, “I’m not sure where to start.” 

Taking pity on him, Donna took his hand and led him away from the console. “Come on, Spaceman,” she said tenderly. “I think we both could use a good cup of tea.” Seating him at the table in the kitchen, she put the kettle on and calmly set out cups, sugar, and milk. She opened a cabinet door and pulled out a tin. Feeling its insignificant weight, she looked inside and turned back the Doctor. “No biscuits,” she tutted. “When I lived here, we always had plenty of chocolate bourbons, custard creams, Hob Nobs, or at least digestives. Did you go off sweets? What happened?!” 

The Doctor, who had been staring down at his folded hands on the table, looked up at her. “You weren’t here. It just didn’t seem important anymore.” 

Donna placed the teapot on the table and took her seat opposite the Doctor. She poured tea into both cups, adding a splash of milk to hers and several spoons of sugar to his. She took a sip and said casually, “Well, I’m here now.” 

He ignored the steaming cup and sat back in his chair. “An hour ago I would have said that was impossible. In fact, I shouldn’t even be me.” 

Donna smiled at him. “Drink up, Time Boy. You know the tannins and free radicals always help after a regeneration. Or non-regeneration.” She pushed the cup toward him, giving him no choice but to take it. “The best I can figure,” she began, “is those Master-clones set your memories loose in my brain and that defence mechanism you so cleverly imbedded triggered a partial regeneration of sorts, letting off just enough of the Time Lord consciousness to keep me from burning.” 

The Doctor sipped his tea and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that could have happened. Wasn’t what I intended, mind. But it could.”

He sat quietly for a long moment, and Donna could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. She wisely remained still, silently drinking her restorative tea. Finally, he took a deep breath, put down his cup, and stood up, putting out his hand. 

She frowned at him and reluctantly took his hand. “Where are we going?” she asked, just a touch suspiciously. 

“To the infirmary. I need to check something.” 

Helping her up onto the examination table, he drew a monitor and what looked like a bank of instruments on hoses – like those in the dentist’s office – toward her. She put out both hands and said, “Whoa there, Time Boy. Just what exactly do you intend to do with those things?” 

“Don’t worry. Nothing drastic.” He smiled at her for the first time since they were reunited. “You never used to be so squeamish.” 

“Well, I’d never had you bouncin’ around in my head before, either!” she groused, but sat still as he waved first his sonic screwdriver and then several of the other devices. She waited patiently as he scanned through the data on the screen, entered some commands, and consulted the monitor again. She was about to ask what he had found, when he repeated the exact sequence of tests and scans on himself. When she couldn’t take the suspense any longer, she blurted out, “Well? What is it?? What have you found?! Bloody hell! Talk to me!” 

The Doctor pocketed his screwdriver and calmly returned the medical equipment to its place. He had his back to the ginger woman and could almost feel her seething behind him. He was deliberately taking his time, drawing out the moment before he had to tell her his findings. When he had mentally prepared himself, he turned back to her. 

Seeing the enigmatic look on his face, she immediately assumed the worst. Putting her hand on his arm, she stated quietly, “It’s okay, Doctor. I didn’t really expect it to work for me. Not for long, anyway. I’m just happy it kept you from regenerating.” 

He stared at her as she spoke, but suddenly the import of her words blasted through his confusion. He gently lifted her hand from his arm and cradled it in both of his, as he sat down next to her. Giving her his usual lopsided smile, he chuckled, “You always did jump to the worst possible conclusion. Believe me, it’s not what you think. Yes, there is good news and bad news, but neither is anything unexpected or extreme, given the circumstances.” 

“Oh, go on then,” Donna sighed. “Give it to me, good and bad.” 

“Well, the good news is that we are both fine. The scans showed that, for whatever reason – and I am still not entirely sure how – my Time Lord consciousness is gone, you still have all your memories and are in no danger of burning. And, as you can obviously see, I am still my dashing self.” 

“But??” She pointedly ignored his last comment. “There’s always a _‘but’_. You said there was bad news. What is it?” 

He was apprehensive, unsure how she would reaction to what he had to impart. But putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier, so he steeled himself and began. “As I said, the Time Lord consciousness has been removed from your brain. However, while it was inhabiting you, it seems to have made some minute changes to your DNA.” 

“Changes. What kind of changes?” she demanded. “Please don’t tell me I’ve gone all alien or something.” 

The Doctor laughed, relieved that she hadn’t burst into tears or slapped him. “No, you haven’t gone _‘all alien’_. Not exactly.” 

She frowned. “What do you mean, _‘not exactly’_?” 

He sat down again. “It appears that, not only did the Time Lord consciousness expand your synapses, it made slight modifications to your DNA.” 

“Well, _that’s_ perfectly clear,” she snorted. “Out with it. What _**exactly**_ did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” he objected. Seeing her look of derision, he amended his statement. “Okay, the _**Meta-crisis**_ seems to have augmented your immune system, giving you greater healing abilities and, in all probability, a longer lifespan. Just how much longer, I can’t tell without more extensive testing But needless to say, you may outlive many in your generation. And before you ask, no. You are not a Time Lady. Not as such. You still have only one heart and one respiratory system, but these have been strengthened and stabilised to a great degree. No quite the Doctor-Donna, but as close an approximation as any human could achieve.”

Donna sat very quietly during the Doctor’s explanation, and, after he had finished, still did not move. She stayed so still for so long that the Doctor had begun to worry that the news had rendered her catatonic. He had just reached for his sonic screwdriver when, without changing her stance, she growled, “Don’t even _**think**_ about bleeping me again.” He wisely put the device back in his pocket 

She blinked slowly and looked straight at him. “Isn’t this just wizard. Well, being a little bit Time Lord is a fair exchange for being dead, I reckon.” She gave a heavy, if somewhat exaggerated, sigh. “I’ll just have to get used to hanging around with _**you**_ for the next few hundred years.” She rolled her eyes and said, in a perfect deadpan tone, “Oh, lucky me.” 

It took the Doctor a few seconds to realize she was having him on, but when it finally registered, his face broke into the widest grin, and he grabbed her hands, pulling her up into a fierce hug. 

That was seven months, three weeks, five days, fourteen hours, and thirty-seven seconds ago. It still surprised Donna what bits and bobs of the Doctor’s consciousness remained in her, like this new ability to measure time. She also found that she understood more of the technobabble he often spouted. Not that she let on, of course. She let him think she was a bit thick, allowing him to explain things to her on occasion, giving his ego a little stroke or two without his realizing it. 

But things _**had**_ changed between them. Little, subtle things. Like him grabbing her hand more often as they explored a new planet, keeping her close beside him. Or celebratory hugs that lasted longer than had been the norm before. And there was more quiet time spent together, in the library or the media room, or just in light conversation during a meal. 

She wasn’t really sure what it meant. Given their new circumstances, it was inevitable that their relationship would evolve, now that her life expectancy was exponentially longer. But just how it was changing and into what, she was, frankly, a little afraid to examine too closely. She just knew she was very happy right where she was and was not about to do anything to jeopardise it. 

There had been a few rough patches, she had to admit, not least of which was calling off her engagement to Shaun. Sweet man that he was, he understood once he had seen her and the Doctor together. The Doctor produced a lottery ticket and gave it to him, expressing his hope that he would use the winnings wisely. 

Explaining everything to her mother was another story entirely. At first, Sylvia refused to allow the Doctor into the house. Wilf, bless him, took matters in hand and dragged her away from the door, welcoming his granddaughter and the Doctor. He went so far as to pull the _‘It’s my house too, ya know!’_ card, which startled Sylvia so that she gave no further resistance. It was then just a matter of describing – in VERY minor detail – how Donna’s mind and memories had been restored, glossing over her biological changes. In the end, all that mattered to her family was that she was well and whole and happy. 

Donna approached the TARDIS and momentarily began to fumble for her key. The ship’s doors opened immediately and she thanked Her verbally for Her consideration. She dropped the shopping bags on the grated floor and continued into the kitchen, carefully setting the cake plate down on the counter. It suddenly occurred to her that the control room had been empty when she walked through, which was highly unusual. She had expected to be accosted by her manic roommate the minute she arrived. 

Strange. 

She re-entered the control room and asked the ship, “Is he sick? Did he bang his head on the grating again?” Looking around she saw no trace of the Doctor. “Come on. Give me a hint.” 

It was then that she heard faint music coming from down the corridor. Intrigued, she crept quietly toward the sound, grateful she was wearing her trainers instead of boots. A short distance away, light spilled from an open doorway into the corridor. It was a room she could not remember seeing before but looked strangely familiar. Through the doorway, she saw a hallway in a human house, complete with staircase. As she approached, she heard an octave scale being pounded on a piano and, as the scale was repeated, a figure slid across the wooden floor and into view. 

It was a sight Donna was sure she would never, ever forget, no matter how long she lived. The Doctor, clad only in a partially buttoned striped shirt, white briefs and white socks, held his sonic screwdriver in one hand and gestured wildly with his other, his eyes closed, mouthing the words to an old Bob Seger song. It was apparent that he was completely unaware she was witnessing this spectacle and, as she watched him prance about, she decided she had no intention of enlightening him. She was having a very difficult time stifling the giggles that threatened to erupt as she watched him gyrate and thrust and wiggle his hips. 

She also noticed something else, something quite startling. His lack of trousers revealed legs that, far from being the twigs she assumed, were actually quite muscular and nicely defined. He twisted about and Donna could clearly see a generous amount of dark chest hair, visible through the partially-open shirt. She stood for a moment, silently admiring his surprising physique. She was only human, after all, and caught herself wishing the shirttails weren’t quite so long. 

As the Doctor danced to the music and lip-synced into the sonic ‘microphone’, he made one final twirl and found himself face to face with his companion. Donna stood with a smirk on her face, watching as his eyes grew wide and his face, neck and chest turned a lovely shade of scarlet. 

“Oh, please. Don’t mind me. Carry on, Doctor,” she instructed, barely able to contain her mirth. 

“OH! Donna!! You’re back. Early. Well. This must look … um ... I … er …” he stammered, having trouble putting together a single coherent thought. 

She took pity on him and retrieved the sonic screwdriver from the floor where he had dropped it. “I’ll go make tea.” 

“I’ll go … put on some trousers.” He dashed out of the room and down the corridor, slipping and sliding in his haste, bouncing into the walls as he headed for his room, Donna’s laughter following in his wake. 

A short while later, the Doctor padded quietly into the kitchen, have donned his blue pinstriped trousers and a burgundy t-shirt, but remaining shoe-less. Standing for a moment in the doorway, he watched Donna bustle about preparing their tea. He loved watching her move. She had a grace that she was completely unaware of, and would vehemently deny if he were to be so foolish as to mention it. 

He slid onto his usual seat in the kitchen just as she turned around and placed the tray with the tea things in front of him. He was reminded of the day she returned to him. She made tea for him that day too. So much had changed since then. 

Donna took her cup and, with just the slightest smirk in her voice asked, “So, tell me, Time Boy. Is that what you get up to when I leave you alone?” 

He blushed slightly. “You were gone a long time,” he whinged. “I got bored.” 

“Oh!” she retorted. “So it’s _**my**_ fault, is it?” 

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. You were the one who showed me that silly film in the first place.” 

“And that gave you free reign to act like a deranged teenager?? So, if we watched any of the ‘Tarzan’ films, should I expect to find you swinging through the TARDIS in nothing but a loincloth!?” 

The Doctor choked on the mouthful of tea he had just taken. When he had regained his breath, he grumbled, “Can we please talk about something other than my state of undress? _**Please?**_ ” Donna allowed herself another chuckle at his expense, then stood up and cut them each a piece of the chocolate cake she and her mother had made for him, and held it out to him as a peace offering. 

He took the plate and put it on the table in front of him. When he hadn’t tucked into it like a two-year-old, she became concerned. Had she taken things too far? He did have a rather fragile ego for one so superior. “Doctor?” she queried softly. “I was only teasing you. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings.” 

His lips curled slightly in an almost-smile, and took one of her hands. “Oh, Donna,” he sighed. “You haven’t hurt my feelings. I was just a little embarrassed to be caught out. And I love your teasing.” 

“Then what is it?” 

He released her hand and sat back in his chair. Gazing at her intently, he decided to throw caution to the wind. “May I ask you a question? No, it’s nothing bad, before your mind goes to all the worst possible scenarios. But it is important.” 

“Well, _**that**_ doesn’t sound half ominous,” she grumbled, giving him a sidelong glance. 

He was still for a moment and then blurted out, “Would you go on a date with me?” 

Of all the terrible possibilities that had been swirling around in her head, _**that**_ was the last thing she expected to hear. “WHAT?!?” was all she was able to articulate. 

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he repeated. 

“I heard you the first time,” she finally managed to reply. “I’m just not sure what you mean. A date? Like a … _**date**_ -date??” 

“Yes,” he responded emphatically. “A real, proper date.” 

“Why?” 

“What?!” 

“Why?” she repeated emphatically. 

“ _‘Why?’_ Why am I asking, or why do I want to go with you?” 

“Yeah, that last one. Why me? Why do you want to go on a date with _me_? We’re mates, you and I.” 

He sighed deeply, having been afraid the conversation would go something like this. He reached for her hand again. “I know this sounds like it comes out of the blue, but I assure you, it doesn’t. I had already been thinking about this long before. Well, since Pompeii, really, I think. Please, let me finish,” he pleaded when she tried to pull away from him. “I was devastated when I had to … well, you know. Leaving you with your family broke something inside me and I went a bit off the rails.” Her incredulous expression shifted to concern and, as she opened her mouth to demand an explanation, he hurried on. “Yes, I _**will**_ tell you all about it but later, not now.” 

Donna felt a little overwhelmed at his statement but, realizing he was opening up to her about his feelings – never an easy thing for the ultra-private Time Lord – she prudently chose to remain quiet. She caught a glimpse of gratitude in his eyes and squeezed his hand in encouragement. 

Bolstered by this sign of support – and the unexpected lack of slapping – he went on. “Since you’ve been back – something I could never have imagined in my long, pathetic life – things have changed between us. We _are_ mates, as you said. You are the best friend I have had since my Academy days, and even that one turned out very badly.” Donna started to speak again, but clamped her jaw shut with a supreme effort that did not go unnoticed. “Another story for another time. But you mean more to me than just a friend. You are my moral compass, my guide. You take care of me when I forget to. You make sure I don’t lose track of the little things while I’m concentrating on the big picture.” 

He took a quick sip of tea to moisten a tongue that had gone very, very dry before continuing. “I can’t imagine my life now without you in it. We area _‘fixed point’_ , of that I am certain. But how that point plays out is a mystery to me. If we’re to be best friends and only that, I would be content and grateful to share the crazy life of a Time Lord with you. But if there is any chance, any possibility however slim, that I could mean more to you than a best mate, well, words would not be sufficient to express my joy. As I said, I don’t really know what I feel, and I am clearly incapable of understanding why you chose to come back to me. I am just asking for the opportunity to explore the possibilities.” 

He rose from the table and knelt beside her chair. “Donna Eileen Noble, could I have the pleasure of your company on a planet of your choosing for an honest-to-Rassilon date, no strings attached, no expectations?”

Donna wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so she opted for her go-to: sarcasm. “Will you get up, ya prawn? It’s a date, not an engagement!” 

The Doctor bounced up as if his knees were on springs. “Does that mean, yes?” he cried. And before she could answer, her pulled her up out of her chair and swung her around in a bear hug. “You won’t regret this. It will be the best date you’ve ever had, I promise.” 

“Put me down, you Mad Martian!” she shouted, her giggles countering the serious tone she tried to convey. When her feet had been returned to solid ground, she stepped back and shook her head. “You shouldn’t make promises like that. You don’t know my history. I have a terrible track record when it comes to first dates.” 

“Ah,” he smirked, “but none of them have been with me.” 

“Git,” she muttered fondly, rolling her eyes. 

“I mean it, Donna. We can do whatever you want. Dinner at the Crystal Caves on the planet Cassandra’s Tears. House-boating down the rivers of Boraethium. Dancing at the Starlight Dome of the Royal Palace of the Grand Molhune of Beta Lyrae.” 

“What? No diamond coral reefs of Callata...” she teased, one eyebrow arched. 

“Kataa Flo Ko,” he corrected, his eyes glittering with mirth as he grabbed her hand and started for the door and the control room beyond. “You’re right! I should have taken you there ages ago. We should go right now! _Allons-_ …” He stopped speaking abruptly, as she dug in her heels, causing him to jerk to a halt. 

“Slow down, tiger,” she laughed. “How about High Tea at the Dorchester and some shopping on Oxford Street? Save the fancy stuff for later.” 

His hearts soared at the word ‘later’ and he hugged her again. “We’ll have the best time, you just wait and see.” And without thinking, he kissed her temple. 

“You know, Spaceman. I think we just might.” 


End file.
